


Not a Boring Night

by Alisanne



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-31 12:49:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10899690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alisanne/pseuds/Alisanne
Summary: Blaise feels something he hasn't in a long time.





	Not a Boring Night

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N:** Written for HP_May_Madness' 2017 fest.  
>  Day Thirteen prompt(s) used: Finally, my reality is better than my dreams.  
> Word Prompts: difference, desperation, Diffindo  
> Pairing: Seamus/Blaise  
> Kink: dendrophilia (tree fetish)
> 
>  **Beta(s):** Emynn.
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** The characters contained herein are not mine. No money is being made from this fiction, which is presented for entertainment purposes only.

~

Not a Boring Night

~

Blaise sighed, toying with the stem of his martini glass. Across the room, Draco was practically crawling into Potter’s lap, and Pansy was all over Weasley. Clearly, his friends were not planning on leaving with him that night. 

“Right,” Finnigan muttered. “This is ridiculous.”

Turning to look at him, Blaise raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?” 

Finnigan, who had come to the club with Potter and Weasley, and with whom Blaise couldn’t recall ever having exchanged a word prior to that evening, nodded at the snogging couples. “Don’t tell me you’re not bored with watching this lot play tonsil Quidditch.”

Blaise choked back a laugh. “I was feeling more desperation than boredom, actually.” 

Finnigan grinned. “Yes, well. If I get any more bored, I’m going to be too pissed to Apparate home.” 

Blaise put down his glass, shaking his head when the bartender offered another. “I’m in the same shape.” He huffed. “I’m not even sure why I’m still here. I should go find a coffee shop—”

“I’ll go with.” 

Blaise pursed his lips. “Yes, all right, let’s go.” He turned to look at his friends. “I feel as if I should tell them I’m leaving, and yet—”

“Oh please.” Finnigan snorted. “We’d have to cast a Diffindo to separate them.” 

Blaise chuckled. “Good point. I’m sure they’ll figure it out eventually.” He gestured towards the door. “Shall we?” 

Once they were outside, Finnigan turned towards him. “Do you know of any coffees shops nearby?” 

“None that are open this late.” Blaise hummed. “But there’s a Muggle wagon thing that parks nearby, and they should still be there.”

“A Muggle wagon—? Oh! A food truck!” Finnigan grinned. “Brilliant. Where is it located?”

“Across from a small park—”

“Oh, I know where that is. Follow me, there’s a shortcut. we’ll be at the coffee truck in no time.” 

“Truck, wagon, what’s the difference?” Blaise muttered, following Finnigan. 

He moved fast, but Blaise kept up easily, and as they cut through an alleyway, Blaise couldn’t help but notice the fine shape of Finnegan’s arse through his tight trousers. 

Blaise licked his lips. Perhaps he should have suggested they keep drinking…

They cut through one more alley, and Finnigan tossed a triumphant grin over his shoulder. “There it is! And thank Merlin, there’s not much of a line.”

“Lovely,” Blaise said, still focussed on Finnigan’s arse. 

Finnigan ordered his coffee with a splash of milk, Blaise took his black, with two sugars, and they strolled cross the street to the park to drink.

“So,” said Finnigan once they were seated, “we never had a chance to chat. What do you do?” 

“I work for Gringotts.” Blaise smiled. “I spend my days counting money and cataloguing valuable objects.”

“Do you like it?” 

Blaise shrugged. “Since I wasn’t sure I’d survive to this point? Yes.”

Finnigan blinked. “Why didn’t you think you’d live?”

Blaise snorted. “Despite being Slytherin, I didn’t support Voldemort.” He sighed. “Not many were inclined to believe that in the aftermath, however. Persuading someone to hire me took effort.”

“That’s awful,” said Finnigan.

Blaise shrugged. “It’s fine now. I enjoy my job, I’m healthy, my mother’s settled down with one bloke…Finally, my reality’s better than my dreams.” He blinked. “And I don’t know why I told you all that. I’m not usually so—”

“Open?” At Blaise’s cautious nod, Finnigan smiled. “It’s okay. I’m used to it. I’m a bartender. I must just have one of those faces. People tell me personal stuff all the time.” 

“Ah. You must have some stories.” 

Slowly, Finnigan smiled. “Bloody hell, do I? There was this one bloke—”

As Finnigan regaled him with stories, Blaise watched his face, He was animated, engaged, and Blaise felt something stirring he hadn’t felt in a while. Desire. 

Finnigan was gesticulating as he spoke, his legs shaking with pent-up energy. “Do you want to take a walk?” Blaise finally asked. 

Breaking off mid-word, Finnigan grinned. “Yeah. Coffee makes me restless.” 

They strolled through the park, chatting, Blaise managing to slip a Gringotts story in here and there, but it was mostly Finnigan talking. 

When they arrived at a pond, they found another bench and sat, continuing their conversation. 

Eventually, however, despite his coffee, and his interest, Blaise started to yawn. 

“Damn,” said Finnigan, breaking off mid-story, “I’m monopolising the conversation. Sorry!” He blushed. “I guess I’m not used to having someone listen to _me_ for a change.” 

“Not at all,” said Blaise. “It’s fascinating. I’m just usually in bed by now.” He smiled. “I’m afraid I’ve become boring in my old age. I’m not used to being out this late.” 

“While _I’m_ accustomed to staying up late and sleeping in,” said Finnigan. He clasped Blaise’s hand. “Still, there are worse obstacles.”

Blaise raised an eyebrow. “Obstacles to—?”

“Seeing where this takes us,” Finnigan murmured, leaning in. He moved slowly, giving Blaise plenty of time to back away. Instead, Blaise pressed forward. As their lips met, and Finnigan deepened the kiss, Blaise sighed into his mouth.

Pulling back, Finnigan grinned. “Yeah, I’d say that’s worth pursuing, wouldn’t you?” 

Blaise smiled back. “Suddenly, I’m not tired at all.” 

Finnigan laughed. “We could go back to mine,” he suggested. 

“Do you mind if we stay here?” Blaise looked around. “I don’t get to see much nature in my job. I’d forgotten how much I like trees.” 

“Tree fetish, hm?” Finnigan grinned as Blaise glared at him. “It’s okay, I’ve heard kinkier.” 

Rolling his eyes, Blaise nevertheless chuckled and relaxed. And as Finnigan moved in for another kiss, he knew no matter what happened between them, it wouldn’t be boring.

~


End file.
